


No rest for the wicked

by pjlover666, silberstreif



Series: Collaboration [14]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Crack-ish, M/M, Oneshot, don't mess with Prowl, sleepy mechs, snuggle time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15109616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjlover666/pseuds/pjlover666, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silberstreif/pseuds/silberstreif
Summary: Recharging after a hard mission isn't as simple as it seems. Prowl is not amused.





	No rest for the wicked

Common opinion had it that Prowl was a workaholic and Jazz a social butterfly. Prowl worked and was a no-joy. Jazz had the fun. Easy. Simple.

Reality? 

Not so easy, especially when parties were work for Jazz who had to keep in touch with the morale and rumors of the Autobots, and when Prowl used his image as a workaholic to hide with his bond mate inside his office for a well-deserved down time... not to mention, creative lessons on how to use every available surface.

But it worked out, more or less; at least they survived, which was more than many others could say during the this war. 

Still, sometimes Prowl was ready to go berserker when his bond mate went and did his thing, being the social butterfly and all, who just didn't understand the concept of saying _'no'_ , of closing your door to the private problems of others and of the much needed free time Jazz had been allotted after his missions. There was always a crisis, he was always needed. And most of the time, Jazz didn't mind. He was happy to know that the soldiers considered him more than just their officer. 

But even Jazz had his off-orns. He wasn't immune -- he was like everybody else. Yet showing that wasn't an option. So, Jazz made compromises.

Compromises Prowl didn't like, not one bit. 

They mostly included Jazz forgetting to recharge and even refuel. The crew knew only what they saw -- that Prowl was the workaholic stick-aft that thought himself above refueling and resting. They failed to see that Jazz was exactly like his mate, and that you need a trained optic to notice all the little signs that clued to Jazz's exhaustion after a hard mission. 

And this was such one orn. His last mission had gone horribly, terrifyingly wrong.

Ratchet had glared daggers at Jazz's grinning face, not fooled by the mask. Luckily, Jazz had suffered only minor damage -- the only thing that needed fixing were his audio receptors, which will be out of the loop for a while. But all in all, this was nothing compared to some of the times Jazz had come back from such missions, resembling a Decepticon chew thing, rather than a mech.

Instead of heeding Ratchet's orders to rest and recharge, Jazz had sought out his mate. Prowl, happy to have Jazz back, was easy to be persuaded for some more 'creative' activities that both mechs had desperately needed in the absence of the other. 

Then, ever the gentlebot that Prowl was, he escorted Jazz back to their quarters (to soothe his own nerves actually, to see that his lover was safely recharging in their berth) and then left to finish analyzing the reports Jazz had brought in.

Said spy woke up with a start not ten breems later, gripped in the clutches of a nightmare. It would get a while before he felt safe enough to power down before waking up every few breems. It became pointless to try and sleep when obviously it wouldn’t work, Jazz headed off to the training grounds to try and shake off his nerves.

That was six joors ago. Jazz only realized that when Prowl came looking for him, frown firm and door-wings high. 

"You think this is amusing?" Prowl asked, not impressed.

"Well, your pout is kinda cute."

Prowl's expression did not change one bit, "Go get some rest. Your shift starts in 5 joors."

"Right. Monitor duty. With Red Alert."

"Light duty until your hearing is up to standard."

Jazz snorted and subspaced his gun. "Whatever. Will _you_ come to bed?"

"No. I still have work to do."

"Of course you do." Jazz lowered his gaze, suddenly finding the floor more interesting. He felt the exhaustion creep into his joints. Primus, it had been a long mission...

He felt more than saw Prowl step closer to him. The Praxian gazed from under his chevron at the camera right above them, seeming thoughtful, before he gently grasped Jazz's hand in a gentle hold, hidden from view.

Prowl never was much about public display of affection, but even he had his slips.

::Are the nightmares bad?:: He commed.

Jazz's only response was to tighten his hold. He wanted so badly to pull Prowl closer. Instead, with one last parting squeeze, he stepped back.

::They've been worse.::

With that, Jazz turned on his heels and left his lover staring at his retreating back, telling himself he wasn't running away. 

* * *

When Blaster started to play yet another song to which Jazz gave a few enthusiastic comments, which Prowl knew where completely fake because Jazz's audials were not yet repaired enough to appreciate more than the speaking range, _he had enough_. Without warning he rose from his chair, abandoned his nearly full energon and stalked across the rec room to his mate.

_That's it._

Another common misconception was that Prowl had no emotions and was a drone. That was wrong. He had emotions, just he didn't bother faking them. Which had the effect that when he was feeling something, everyone could see it. Case in point - anger. With blazing optics, wings pointing high, and an armor fluffed out in an impressive ancient threat display, it was no wonder every mech in the rec room hurried to get out of his way.

Blaster, for whom it was far too late, gulped. "Hey Prowl, come on, the song wasn't that loud..." He tried a smile. "And we did nothing wrong."

Prowl wanted to strangle him. Instead he narrowed his optics as he caught the nearly completely hidden swaying of his bondmate. And Blaster called himself a friend of Jazz, but talked him nearly into stasis! He fluffed his armor a bit more - Blaster shrunk back - and grabbed Jazz by the arm. "You better come with me," he said, but didn't wait for an answer as he hauled Jazz out of the chair.

The Head of SpecOps didn't even struggle. He just looked at Prowl and nodded compliant, all the while grinning meekly at Blaster. If Prowl hadn't been worried before, he was now. Jazz and compliant? Something was very, very wrong.

He shot Blaster a sharp look that promised pain and dragged his bondmate out of the rec room. Many optics followed them, pitying Jazz that he had such a cruel and cold bondmate. Prowl didn't care one iota.

"Did you fuel at all yet?" he asked instead and was already pushing a cube into Jazz's weak servos. "Your optics are far too light."

"Prowl..." mumbled Jazz.

"Don't Prowl me," growled the tactician, but by now the anger was leaving him. "Drink."

The saboteur sipped a bit, then when he met Prowl's uncompromising optics he took a deep gulp. "My tanks are above the half mark," Jazz tried to defend himself.

"Right." Prowl didn't believe him and instead made him drink more. The hallways were thankfully mostly empty as it was in the middle of the main shift, so no one stopped them until they reached their quarters. 

Prowl pushed Jazz inside, and then towards their berth. Jazz struggled, but it was more symbolically than serious. "Don't treat me like a sparkling!"

"When you're acting like one, I'll treat you like one," answered Prowl without mercy. Jazz dug his heels into the ground, but as a minibot he was smaller than a Praxian - something Prowl knew to use very well to his advantage as he simply took his bondmate over his shoulder and carried him the last few meters towards the berth.

"Prowl, let me down!" cursed the saboteur.

The tactician smirked. "As you wish." And put him on the berth, which was surprisingly warm and made Jazz groan in sudden comfort. "I already warmed it beforehand." 

Jazz's optics darkened. "Thank you."

"You're welcomed." Prowl arranged Jazz and a few pillows. "Here is more energon and now recharge -  staying 18 joors awake since you came back from the mission is absurd. You've been given the down time for a reason and not for working."

"Not work," protested Jazz.

"Yes, it is work, no matter how much you like it." Prowl sighed. "Believe me, I have lost that particular argument more time than we can both count against Ratchet."

Jazz chuckled and looked up to Prowl who stood next to the berth. "Ratchet is a pro at arguments."

"Does that mean I'm not?" asked Prowl playfully. Then he walked to the door and put the light out. "Recharge. If you need anything, I'm in the other room."

"Yeah..." 

Prowl smiled and walked out.

With any other mech this would've been it. But Jazz was Prowl's bondmade and really just as much of a workaholic as Prowl. Not helping were the nightmares. Not at all. So, when Jazz woke up from a recharge dump filled with his own nice horror story after less than eight breems, he didn't decide to try recharge again. No, he stood up and sneaked to the door. As expected, Prowl was working, which made Jazz smile. There were reasons they were perfect for each other. This was one of them.

Then he waited, and observed his bondmate. How he filled the datapads with practiced and sure movement born from age long experience. How he frowned when he concentrated. How he leaned back and stretched his doorwings when he had finished another task.

::Jazz!:: The panicked call reached him over the commlines. ::We need your help. The twins are ready to destroy Mirage in the training rooms!::

He sighed. Why did they call him? He was not on duty... but then he was always there. The one officer they trusted. He gave Prowl another glance.

::I'm there in a klick, Cosmos. Try to keep out of the way.::

Recharge could wait. Still, he wasn't proud of himself when he tiptoed past his own bondmate out of their shared rooms. 

* * *

To say that Prowl was surprised to find an empty berth room, would be a lie. He knew Jazz. Also he got the warning from Red Alert about a brawl between Mirage and the frontliner twins. All three prideful beings and good fighters. Not a good combination and one few could handle. Few. Which didn't mean that Jazz was the only one.

If he found out 'who' had called Jazz, energon would flow.

He searched for Jazz and found him in his office in the middle of giving Mirage a lecture of not antagonizing frontliners, especially not when they were two and spoiling for a fight. The spy nodded dutifully at every few words, but Prowl doubted that he would change his behavior no matter what Jazz said. Yet, this was a reprimand and he would not undermine Jazz's duty. So he just leaned against the wall next to the door, ignored Mirage's nervous glances and waited.

When Jazz finished, Mirage left in a hurry and Prowl grabbed Jazz by the arm before he could leave. "Shouldn't you be recharging?" he asked.

Jazz sighed and leaned against his bondmate. The exhaustion was more obvious now. "I got called and they needed me."

"You could have deactivated your commlines," pointed Prowl out.

Jazz looked away. That was a long standing argument between them. Jazz never deactivated his commlines, no matter what he was doing. Prowl accepted that mostly, but it got annoying during some private situations. It was one of the few hidden signs of paranoia that Jazz hid so well and which came with his job. 

Prowl let the matter drop. "Back to the berth?"

Jazz nodded.

Again Jazz was trying to recharge rather unsuccessfully, while Prowl worked in the other room. After half a breem, Prowl suddenly stormed into the sleeping room, turned on the lights, knelt down next to the berth and felt beneath it for something.

He didn't need to search for long. With a triumphant smirk he showed Jazz two photon-blasters, which both were in a need for a cleaning. Jazz did love to clean his toys. The spy glowered at him, but the tactician only smiled back. "No work, only recharge."

Prowl searched the space beneath the berth again, then the whole room.

"Don't ya think ya're overdoing it a bit, Prowler?" asked Jazz from the berth.

"No."  

Prowl didn't find another weapon and went to the door again. "I'll keep them until you're cleared for work again. Recharge well."

Jazz grumbled as Prowl left the room.

It was now quiet and peaceful and he really had nothing to do anymore. With a sigh he stared at the ceiling and started a few music clips in his processor. Music always calmed him and there definitely was no music in Decepticon prisons, so maybe it would help...

It did. 

The peace lasted three breems. He snuggled into the covers, felt warm and content and didn't want to get up. Ever. It was bliss - that moment between recharge and being awake. However, his rest was violently interrupted by blaring alarm sirens that proclaimed _'Attack! Attack!'._

Prowl cursed. Loud. Explicitly.

Jazz just got up feeling a certain amount of relief as he got off the berth. Together they ran for the war room, ready to do everything to save Cybertron.

The attack lasted a whole orn and at the end even the most rested mech was tired. Prowl's bondmate had left the state of 'tired' long, long ago and was now only running on cybermones and fumes. Maybe he should knock Jazz unconscious. At least he would stop moving that way and wouldn't hear everyone's requests anymore.

And those requests! How could they all not see that Jazz was in no way ready to work?

Before Prowl could act though, Optimus Prime stepped forward with a smile. "Good mechs, thank you all for your help and commitment. While we couldn't save the steel mines, their inhabitants are mostly safe and sound. That's your credit." 

Cheering rose in the command center and even Prowl couldn't help but feel praised. It had been a hard orn, but they had won and the Decepticon forces had been repulsed.

"I understand that you're all tired now, so please go and take your deserved down time." Optimus nodded towards Prowl. "All officers of the High Command I have to ask to meet me in the war room in a breem. We have much to discuss."

This was true, Prowl knew that well. But still, the ‘all officers’ order dismayed him, because Jazz, as Head of Special Ops was also affected. He looked over to Jazz, saw how forced the smile was, how he didn't move his hands to every word anymore and how his steps were suddenly so...unsure. Lacking the grace which Prowl always endlessly admired.

After the meeting. Surely. Then Jazz would recharge. And if Prowl personally had to stand guard and force every Autobot away. No matter who it was. No matter why. Everyone.

The meeting was _long_. Not that this would usually bother Prowl, but this time he had more immediate concerns. Every few klicks he couldn't help but look at Jazz. Had the visor always been this dim? Had he always just listened?

No.

And it worried Prowl as he listened to Optimus' second motivational 'thank you' speech, through Ironhide's on the site report. Through Magnus report of the gestalt battle. When Perceptor stood up, Prowl was counting the klicks.

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity illustrate the probable chemical formulas the Decepticons used in their last assault," began the scientist and launched into a long winded speech of possible new weapon developments and areas of uses. Of chemical changes and how some molecules could be protected and would form a basis on which a counteragent could be developed.

Suddenly Jazz's helmet fell and Prowl launched forward, just to freeze as the helmet went up again. He stared, but no one else seemed to have noticed anything. Jazz continued to listen.

"The counter agent is of significant complexity as it will have at least thirty-six variable chemical distributors that all affect each other," continued the small microscope and of course listed and explained every single ingredient.

Again Jazz's helmet fell. Again Prowl's vents nearly stopped. Again the helmet went up again and the saboteur looked as if nothing had happened.

But... what was the meaning of this?

Prowl observed his bondmate closer and carefully brushed the bond. All he got was...calm and a certain sleepiness. Jazz was actually far calmer than at any time since he had returned from that accursed mission. He felt... _safe_ , among them all.

"Thank you for listening," concluded Perceptor his report.

Optimus Prime nodded and stood up. "Anyone else who wants to add something? I'm sure we have gotten a comprehensible view on the battle and can all use a bit of a break."

Prowl looked at Jazz who was at the edge of the recharge and then at Prime who was ending the meeting. No. Not now. He couldn't let this happen, not when Jazz was for the first time at the edge of recharge!

He stood up. "Thank you, Optimus," he said, interrupting the Prime who looked startled. "I indeed have to add a few things about the battle."

And he started to talk, well aware of the annoyed looks everyone gave him and the fact that none of his information was essential. But then he was a tactician and analyzing was what he did - he would be able to talk for joors without break. And he would, if it would help Jazz to recharge.

But thank Primus, it didn't seem necessary. Just when he was explaining that the dirt on the Decepticon's armor was a strong hint that the came from the north, which meant the Kaon stronghold, a 'tuck' interrupted the silence of the room.

Jazz's helmet had finally hit the table and he was peacefully recharging. The other officers traded amused looks.

For the first time in two orns Prowl relaxed, but didn't stop talking. Relieved, that finally Jazz was getting the recharge he deserved permeated his spark.

Then Ironhide leaned over and put a hand on Jazz's shoulder to wake him.

Prowl didn't even notice himself stepping forward, wings flaring, weapon systems unlocking. "Wake him up and you're dead," he promised softly.

Ironhide stared at him, then he very slowly and deliberately removed the hand from Jazz's shoulder. 

Optimus looked startled. "You want him to recharge in a meeting?"

"I want him to _recharge_ ," explained Prowl quietly. "I don't care where at the moment."

Ratchet, who had so far said nothing during the whole affair, frowned. "Don't tell me he didn't get a whisk of recharge since his last mission? That was four orns ago!"

"He didn't. Not for lack of trying on my side," said Prowl. 

"So..." Ironhide leaned back. "And now? Do you still want to finish your report Prowl?"

"No."

The red warrior smirked. "So you all kept us here just so Jazz would fall asleep?"

Prowl shrugged, "I'm innocent until proven guilty."

"But now we can go, right?" asked Wheeljack, who was already standing. "I have that experiment that I really shouldn't leave alone for more than one joor..."

That was enough to convince everyone that Wheeljack should be somewhere else. Now. Prowl pointed to the door. "You all can leave. _Quietly_. If you wake him up..."

"Yeah, we remember," assured him Ironhide.

Optimus gave the two black and whites a worried glance when he sneaked past them. "You should have said something."

Then, finally they were all out of the meeting room and Prowl was alone with a recharging Jazz. With a soft smile he sealed the door with his own private, high-security code and took the chair next to Jazz. A soft smile, then he put the chair closer towards Jazz, extended so his field meshed pleasantly with the spy's; a trick that helped with memory purges so they wouldn't occur.

A klick later he too was deep in recharge. After all, he too hadn't recharged since Jazz had come home from the mission.     

 


End file.
